Freezepop
by BluePlastic
Summary: JJ sits at home for once and thinks about stuff. (Not as angsty as it sounds.) Done for a challenge to write a fic based on the word "cold."


A/N: here we go...my first completed fanfic ever! whee! Very exciting. :)

Title: Freezepop

Author: Sarah Faye

Series: FAKE

Pairing: none, really.

Rating: G

A slight but comfortable roughness bled its way through JJ's shirt as he leaned back against the brick wall, a small pile of electronics at his side, stretching his legs out and entangling his feet in the somewhat rusty posts of the black metal railing that framed his apartment's small balcony.

The air around him hummed with noise - cars passing below, a cat meowing plaintively outside someone else's door, the low drone of the roommates in the apartment two doors down fighting about who didn't wash the dishes again - but, after so many years in the city, a certain noise level had begun to pass for silence. When he had gone upstate for skiing a few months back, he remembered being slightly disturbed by the real, honest-to-goodness, near-total silence that had blanketed the mountain at night, with everything cloaked in snow and the calls of a few hearty birds that never flew south the only natural sounds to be had.

Then, he had dispelled his disquietude by carrying on in his own exuberant way, filling the quiet air with chatter and laughter, much to the delight of the ex-boyfriend who had taken him on the trip. "Why did I ever leave you, Jamie?" he had asked as the silence fell again for a small moment. There was no answer for that, and they had gone to their separate beds shortly thereafter.

He shook his head a little, as though to clear away dust. "No reason to dwell on that," he muttered to himself, spotting a small, multicolored moving object in his peripheral vision. "Right, Noodles?"

The black and orange-flecked cat let out a small phrrip of assent, padding closer to him on silent feet and bowing beneath his hand as he petted her, gently skritching her ears.

"Just me and you today, dollface," he said with a smile, stroking along the cat's back and up her oversized tail.

He sighed, thinking of how it would look if someone saw him hanging out on a Friday night with his cat, all prepared to listen to music alone in the twilight. It wasn't that he didn't have friends - far from it, in fact; people seemed to find him funny, in general, and he was generally a mere phone call away from a mirthful night in any number of venues, from coffeehouses and dimly lit bars to the living rooms of tiny Manhattan apartments - but there were times when a person just wanted to be alone. That person had rarely been him, admittedly, but when the call of solitude came, he was man enough to listen.

He patted the ground at his side, searching out the round shape of his Discman with his fingers and pulling it up into his lap. He placed the headphones in his ears, pressed play and adjusted the volume for a small moment before leaning back against the warm bricks again, the contemplative, soothing sound of expert piano playing washing over his consciousness.

He closed his eyes and, in the darkness, his mind provided pictures - random forms at first, stars and birds and butterflies in bold color - and then evolving into memories - a particular butterfly, seen at camp when he was 10 years old; the stars that shone in such abundance over the farm he used to visit every summer as a child; the small white birds that emerged mysteriously from the hands of the magician at his eighth birthday party - and, now, people - his parents, laughing at something he said, back in happier times; his little brother, trying to scare him with a huge frog he had pulled from the pond; Dee, with that infuriatingly sexy smile of his, Dee who rejected him over and over, but could not kill the irrational hope that stirred in his heart every time he saw him, could not put a stop to the playful urge that provoked him to grip on tightly and never let go of his sempai until he was forced to do so; and now, another, familiar and quiet, kind and gentle, coming through clear and strong, stirring up feelings against his will...

The pressure of a cool hand on his shoulder made him almost scream; he whipped his head around, blinking himself back into reality, ready to do battle. "What are you-Drake?"

"Sorry to startle you, but you didn't hear me when I said your name," Drake said, a look of worry on his face. "I didn't mean to scare you...you left your door unlocked, you know, and I guess I didn't think how bizarre it would be to have me just walk in. Sorry."

"Well, yeah, it is a little weird," JJ said, sputtering a little as he turned off the music and set the discman aside. "I seriously left my door open? I must have been operating on auto-pilot when I came home." He attempted a small, reassuring smile. "I'm glad it was you who figured it out, though, instead of someone more sinister."

"I can be sinister," Drake said, making his best attempt at a villainous face. "Ok, maybe not. I brought freezepops, though."

JJ tilted his head to one side. "Like Flavor Ices?"

"Yeah." Drake held out his hand, in which he held four plastic tubes full of brightly colored frozen water. "I thought you might like something cold, since you don't have air conditioning."

This time, the smile that broke out across JJ's face was entirely unforced. "You're way too nice to me. Not that I'm complaining." He patted the concrete next to him. "Have a seat."

Drake smiled in return as he sat down, passing JJ a grape flavored freezepop. "This one matches your hair, I think," he said amusedly, biting the end off of an orange one and beginning to suck out the sweet liquid inside.

"My hair's not that purple," JJ said defensively, though his voice was still light and amused.

Drake reached out and tousled JJ's hair, smiling orangely around his frozen treat. "Yeah, not quite that purple..."

As the twilight deepened, and the yellow-orange streetlights began to flicker on in the street below, their conversation blended in to the gentle din of the city night, a fragment in the momentary mosaic of place and time, softening the edges of the harsher sounds around them with low voices and sweet, gentle laughter.


End file.
